


That Which He Can Never Have

by CaptainWeasley



Category: Superstore (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainWeasley/pseuds/CaptainWeasley
Summary: Jonah has been having a lot of daydreams.





	

A row of shopping carts is rolling towards Jonah, fast, and Amy pulls him out of the way, her fingers on his arm. He feels like an electric current is running through him, stronger than the shock of almost being hit. Can't she feel it? He turns to look into her eyes, but she already has her back to him, going after the carts. If only she would touch him again. If only she would touch him because she wants to, not because some work situation compels her. If only she would touch him and never let him go, if only she wanted to touch him as much as he wants to touch her. He imagines her fingers on his face, tracing his cheekbones, his lips, his jaw, running down his neck... He can almost feel it, almost. He swallows. He shouldn't be thinking about her like that, least of all at work.

Amy is going over a checklist, brow furrowed, her tongue darting out ever so slightly to wet her lips as she concentrates. Jonah closes his eyes for a moment. He shouldn't have looked, now the image is burned into his mind, and no matter what he does, he can't stop thinking about those full lips. He bets they would feel amazingly soft against his own, imagines her sighing into his mouth, eyes closed, pulling him towards her, hands in his hair. He wants to hold her close, kiss her like there's no tomorrow. He wants to feel her body against his, his fingers exploring her back, the curve of her ass, his tongue teasing hers lightly. He wants nothing more than for her to want him, whispering into his ear that it's about time, that she can't go another night without him, that she can't wait any longer.

Somebody managed to knock over a shelf, and they're trying to sort out the mess. Jonah is so close to Amy that he can catch her scent, and he knows he should get some distance between them, that he has to stop thinking about her. He bites his lip, trying to distract himself, but he can't help but wonder if her skin tastes the same. He wants to kiss the back of her neck, pull her towards him and breathe her in, wonders what her hair would feel like against his face, wishes he could find out. He wants to know everything there is to know about her, wants to taste every inch of her body, wants to find all of her sensitive spots. He wants to map her out with his lips and his tongue and his fingertips, until he knows the shape of her curves like the back of his hand.

Amy's rummaging through her locker, her back to Jonah, and the feeling of longing inside him is so intense that he feels like his stomach is on fire. He imagines her turning around, seeing him and smiling, greeting him with a kiss like it's an old habit, like they kiss each other every day. He wonders what it would be like to live with her, to go home together at the end of the day, to fall asleep next to her, to kiss her good morning. He wants to listen to her heartbeat, lying in her arms, he wants to laugh with her, he wants to watch her sleep, he wants to stop having these ridiculous feelings, she's married, he should really get a grip.

One question keeps Jonah awake at night, haunting him: What does she taste like? He desperately needs the answer. What does she taste like? He wants to bury his face between her thighs and find out, wants to lick her slick folds until she screams, wants to taste her more than anything. He imagines her wriggling beneath him, breathing hard, eyes closed, moaning yes, yes... He imagines her legs shaking as he flicks his tongue against her clit, one of her hands in his hair, urging him to go faster, but he would take his time, savour every second, lap up every last drop of liquid and commit the taste of her to memory. 

There's a problem with one of the cash registers, and Amy is trying to help, leaning across the counter. Jonah almost sighs. What he wouldn't give for her to bend over like that for him. He feels guilty as soon as the thought forms inside his head, but no matter how hard he tries not to picture her bent over in front of him, wet and ready, he can't shake the image. He is sure she would feel amazing, moving against him, impatiently urging him to fuck her—he really has to stop thinking about this, he berates himself, tearing his eyes away from her. 

Jonah is supposed to rearrange the store's selection of pillowcases, but even he knows he's not doing a very good job of it. He keeps wondering what Amy would look like, lying in his bed at home, lost in ecstasy, her hair a mess and her eyes half-open and her skin flush, would she say his name? He wants to hear her say it, he can picture it so clearly, her lips forming the word, Jonah, screaming his name as she climaxes, whispering his name in between kisses, sighing his name when he touches her, using his name to beg him for more, Jonah, I need you, Jonah, I want you, Jonah, I love you.

He wants to hold her afterwards, wants to kiss her softly and run his fingers through her hair and watch her fall asleep in his arms, he wants to wake up in the morning and look into her sleepy eyes, and maybe, just maybe, he wants her to make him feel safe and at home and like he finally belongs somewhere. His fingernails dig deep into his palms. He has to get over her already, has to bury his longing deep inside himself and never let it show. He has to stop thinking about her, he tells himself firmly, just like he has every day for the past few months. He can't be in love with a married woman.


End file.
